Canons
by Holly.Owl.Eyes
Summary: Wendy Darling was tired, she sought freedom. Another world. Peter had been watching her, always from afar, and unsuccessfully denying his feelings. But both would never have guessed that what they wanted was the same.
1. Pining

**CHAPTER ONE**

I pulled away from him, sparks flying through my brain; my body was all electricity when I was with him. His kiss lingered on my lips, tingling, bringing heat to my cheeks when he brought his hand up to caress my face.

"I love you Wendy Darling…" He swept his fingers along my jaw line. "You've stolen something most important from me." His green eyes burned with something alive, yet undistinguished. I could never memorize them perfectly enough—so something about them felt flat in my memory.

I lay another kiss on his beautiful lips, hoping to delve back into the world only he could take me to, waiting for the birds to start singing, the fireworks, the music… waited for the sweet taste of his mouth to take me over.

But all I could sense was someone prying, something nudging me most uncomfortably. A tug at this most perfect moment, and jerking me back to reality.

"Wendy…. Wendy wake up, doll." It was my mother's voice. I blinked open my heavy lids, weighted with sleep.

I groaned. I wanted to go back to my dream. So delicious…

"Wendy! Up Now!" That woman would never quit. I sighed.

I rolled out of the sheets, untangling the duvet from my pinafore.

"I'm awake, mother," I called, finding she had already left my room.

Had I just had another dream about Peter? I could definitely say it was not growing old, it was only growing repetitive. I could only dream about his lips so many times. Not that it lessened any of my likings. But how could I expect not to go mad without the real, the tangible? Unattainable. I'd been dreaming about Peter almost ever since I saw him.

But why? He was not mine to think about that way.

Pushing it from my mind yet again, I decided to get dressed and ready for the morning, I was expected with the family, to come to breakfast. And later tonight, we'll be hosting a ball, and had invited the officers as a generous movement when they came into town. And mother had it, no doubt in her head, to marry me off to one of them. Such a silly idea. I would never allow such a thing for myself—a grown man! Ugh. All I had on my mind was Peter, and there was no confidence he was going to be there. So I wouldn't hope.

I called mother to my room to help me with my corset, having difficulty putting it on. I pulled the stiff thing over my bloomers, grudgingly. She cinched the laces tight, pinching my skin, severing all means to breathe in one pull. When she was finished cutting off my airways, I let my gaze stray to the mirror. I found myself suddenly surprised at my appearance. I awed yet again at how much I'd grown. It was only the other day I was out in the yard with John and Michael playing with wooden swords, catching dragonflies. Now I was the girl in the reflection before me, the corset over my knickers accentuating my curves, the pronouncedly grown breasts, and the face—only yesterday was mud being wiped from it after a hardy playtime with the boys.

Well, it seemed like yesterday, anyway.

What I saw in the mirror—was what was expected of a girl to look like when she grows up, to be happy she had, and want the things that came with growing up: breasts and a tiny waist— a pretty face to suit rich men's tastes. Something all girls were expected to end up as, strive to be, to want to be. Fashionable, elegant, beautiful _grown women_…

_Was it bad, that I didn't want it?_

**PETER**

The rolling hills before me, the grass under my feet, the sky and the air, it was all so beautiful, real, and present. The scents, the feeling of the cold breeze ruffling my messy hair, the crunching of the grass and rocky dirt, I loved it because it was so bona-fide, unlike anything else I'd been dealing with lately. The warm sun beating on my back felt good in contrast to the chill of the morning air.

I stood at the peak of the hill, overlooking the small town. There were houses spread out across the country, a mile or so separating them, lively pastures and gardens crowding their yards. The town square was most intriguing, in the middle of the village. Where there was a bank on one side, town hall on another. One end held rows of market sellers, dirty hands offering produce, fresh fruit, and sultry meat. And on another end was the richer part, the 'better' part of town, where the wealthy resided. Where there were abodes that sold all means of clothing, from ribbons to waistcoats. And many businesses lined the cobblestone roads. The two sides were far apart from each other, but you could neither leave, nor enter with out crossing the less wealthy parts. I hated the way society divided itself, thought it disgusting of someone to think of themselves highly, and better, without mercy to the lesser. I was sure since I came to develop these rebellious thoughts at a young age, always coming up here and looking over everything with the curious eyes of a child, judging something ignorantly. But I found I've always felt this way. About people. About everything. And I knew the rich who had to go frequently through the poverty almost everyday, were humbled by what they saw. Or were at least quiet when they looked.

The town was small, but held a large number of people since it lye so close toLondon. I liked all the people who lived here. I grew up with them. This town was family. I'd always have opinions about them, but it was his own society I was judging.

I pulled my gaze away after a moment, forgetting, causing me to miss a detail that I would have loved to watch more closely.

The Darling house.

The officers, including me, the general's son, were invited to a ball with the Darlings later that evening. The girl, Wendy, having been one of the things I was dealing with being the most unreal thing he'd beheld, would be there; and under all circumstances I would too, considering my place. Just another thing expected.

But Wendy was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I couldn't deny, but I didn't want to appreciate. Something new and unfamiliar hit the pit of my stomach at thinking of her. I didn't like the feeling at all. The sentiment, new and odd, was irrelevant, I rejected it with disgust.

But whispers of her laughter still rang in my ears.

I was mad to want her. Why should I? She was just a girl, a mere girl. And she was just like the rest.

And the party, I most certainly did not want to go to. What was to be expected of me if I went? Be a gentleman to the ladies? Make small talk with other commanders? Kiss girls' hands? Wendy's hand? Walk straight and tall, like a real man was expected to?

It was every boy's dream, of being older, growing up, being accepted by the older crowd, and being _like_ them. Just like them.

_Was it bad, that I didn't want it?_

But there was one thing I knew, if not anything else. I wanted to be free.

And that I, a boy of fifteen, would _not_, hear me, _not_, fall for that girl.

I, Peter Pan, would not grow up.

And falling in love meant growing up. And growing up meant getting older.

**_Hello, readers. This is my first Peter Pan fic, and I'm working really hard on it. I've set it aside for a while, but I've decided to come back to it. Let me know what you think and if you think I should go on. Reviews are appreciated! _**

**_- Holly_**


	2. The Ball

**CHAPTER TWO**

I slipped into the deep forest-green silk gown, tied at the waist by a large bow in the back, and complemented quite horribly by ruffles spilling all the way to the floor. I looked back at myself into the life size looking glass before me. My sandy blonde hair was done up in an outrageously tight bun, that pulled uncomfortably at my scalp; with just the right amount of curls falling out around my face. Beautiful in mother's opinion. In my opinion I was only a fancied up girl, trying too hard to look like a lady. My wary blue eyes stared back at me hopelessly and tired, the bags underneath powdered into invisibility. The smile my face pulled into was so tense, I was afraid it would crack into a million pieces if I tried to force it any harder.

"There," my mother cooed, pinching my cheeks to create the illusion of a rosy blush. "You could almost pass for a _woman_, Wendy."

I gasped. That was the worst insult I could receive. A _woman_! How was I to become a woman? I couldn't picture it. My mind frame still focused on the days when swordfights and playing in mud were my priorities, what I loved the most. And still loved. I've snuck out to play with John and Michael on more than one occasion. Recently though, my desires have been ignored, getting ready for this ball. What I really wanted was to run in the rain again, feel my dress become slowly soaked through and just lie there, letting puddles collect around me. Feel the warmth of the monsoon whenever we made one of our rare holidays to the islands. Run through the fields on a spring day. And never stop. Above all, that was what I sought most. But again, that want had been most inexorably disregarded.

"Almost nineteen inches, Wendy. You take care to slow down on the sweets," my mother said, measuring my waist and checking last minute details while I just stood there waiting for her so we could leave. I rolled my eyes.

"Wendy Darling, don't you give me that look," she cried.

"I'm sorry, mother," I muttered.

"Come now, we've guests waiting."

I descended the staircase formally, following my mother. I placed my best gracious, smile on my face, hoping she would approve. And hoped beyond hope this ball would not be the ordinary kind, filled with false laughter, petty small talk, and reserved introductions. But I knew deep down it was in vain.

Upon reaching the grand foyer, eyes turned to me, and I was swallowed immediately by the crowd of mingling people. I felt a pair of eyes in particular on me as I descended into the gathering. I tried to ignore them.

Officers and neighbors we knew from around town, and my parents, already talking and greeting new arrivals, were the fillings of the throng of people. I spotted where a few girls my age were making conversation with General James H., the only man of the Regiment who the anyone in town was familiar with first hand.

Swarms of familiar faces gathered to say hello. Anxiety built up, and a nervous lump formed in my throat at being the center of attention. I hated it. After I greeted everyone, and stood welcoming more at the door beside mother and father, I finally was able to simply walk around by myself. I took a deep breath and migrated to the edge of the party, taking refuge by the wall where girls waited their turn to dance. The lively music seemed merry to everyone, got them going and gave a mood to the atmosphere. All I heard was screeching violas and cellos, and flutes that strained my ear drums. Officers Smee and Slightly came over as they spotted me from a distance. They came and stood tall before me, and we greeted each other. They each took my hand and bowed.

Officer Smee was an older man, with white combed back hair and long grey side burns, and a larger belly poking through his coat. He had round blue eyes and baby cheeks that gave him the appeal of a child. Officer Slightly, on the other hand, was quite good-looking, with brown curly hair, a straight nose, and a pronounced jaw. He had all the fine manners and good humor of a well raised gentleman. Everything any young lady who esteemed that character would dream of in their husband.

"I take that your health is well," Slightly inquired after Smee had taken pardon and disappeared to make general salutations elsewhere. "And that of your family's."

"Yes, very. And my family is doing well also." He smiled a lovely half smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. And I knew I was losing his attention. I have never really talked with an officer before, and I didn't know what to inquire after him. What if mentioning the Regiment or his family wasn't proper? I found that the pregnant pause between us had quickly become awkward. Boredom was all over his features and his gaze flickered to the crowd, and he was about to turn away. I knew as a host I should be able to entertain, and I wasn't doing a very good job.

I tried to find words to ask him anything. Where he was from, how he came to join the Militia… whatever I could, just to keep him talking. I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off. "It's been nice speaking to you, Miss Darling." He bowed. But even with his face turned down; I caught a glimpse of his eyes and the furrowed brow, and saw a little smirk on his mouth, as if he knew I wouldn't be worth talking to, and I just proved to him I wasn't.

He walked quickly away, as if trying to escape the obligation of being in my presence as fast as he could.

I felt instant resentment. Everyone around me was talking in tightly knit groups and laughing heartily. The women's gossip stirred quiet laughter as they examined the crowd and plucked the styles out of fashion, their eyes like vultures' watching everyone, judging. There was incessant talk of London and summer. And I grew so tired of hearing the same thing I could cry.

My mind drifted to the balcony, and nothing felt so inviting, where I could get away for just a moment. The cool night air embraced me as I crossed the threshold, and I took a deep breath of relief. I walked to the edge and stood there, watching the night sky and admiring the bowl of the vast garden below me, and beyond that, the rest of the world, trees that faded into the blackness, making it seem like this was the only place left on earth. It looked in this light, as something from a fairytale. I returned my gaze to the sky, watching how the clouds, transparent like thin milk brushed a white screen over the moon, and diluted the stars. The garden was dimly illuminated in cold colors; and the wind like fingers lighted on my bare shoulders and combed through my hair.

Suddenly I heard a rustling behind me, and I turned to see a figure part the curtains and saunter out, walking toward me from behind. I was on the part overlooking the side of the house on the east end, and the person emerged from the doors on the west end; we were separated by the length of rounded front of the balcony in the middle. I decided to step quietly into the shadows, out of sight. I didn't feel much like talking to anyone. I just wanted privacy. I felt slightly annoyed that I couldn't get a minute's peace without it being interrupted. They probably brought a lover quietly away outside to talk. And I felt a pang of jealousy. But listening, I only heard one pair of footsteps, so that couldn't be it. Maybe they wanted to get away like me, to be alone. I pushed the thoughts aside, choosing to ignore the other person.

But all of a sudden, the footsteps were approaching me. I hoped they just wanted to look over here at a different view, and hadn't seen me. And then they stopped, but I didn't want to look for fear of being caught. How embarrassing would that be, found trying to hide out here all alone. I risked it and glanced around. The figure was right beside me. I jumped and gasped, startled, and a bit afraid as his shadow loomed over me. But he laughed and I caught my breath, coming back down to earth, suddenly feeling very embarrassed; and irritated again, that he had the gull to laugh at me.

"What are you doing out here un-chaperoned, Miss?"

"I want to be alone," I snapped. "Besides, what do you care? Do I know you?"

"Well excuse me," he said chuckling. "What's got you?"

"I just don't want to be here," I huffed.

"It's quite lovely inside. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. It's a shame that you're not."

I didn't say anything. He spoke again. "There's a dance in a few minutes, is your card already filled?"

"I don't have one."

"What a shame. I would be honored to have this next song with you, if you wouldn't mind it," he said.

"No, that's alright," I said, growing tired very quickly of this conversation.

"Come on. You can't be down all night, have some fun!"

My bottled anger finally burst.

"You know, I never wanted to be apart of this. And don't tell me what to do. I wouldn't be very amusing tonight, anyway. You should go back inside and find another partner. I would go back in too because believe it or not, I love balls. But I suspect my mother would like a match to ensue for me from tonight." He was silent. "I can't handle it. A lady loses freedom when she is old enough to be paired off. Her life isn't hers anymore, when every moment is spent looking for the one thing deciding her future."

The man sighed and rested his elbows on the marble railing. I felt his eyes on me, and I turned to look into his face for the first time. I realized that his gaze was the familiar heavy stare I was most wary of at the beginning of the party. I knew who I was talking to now. I've always esteemed this boy in secret, always too shy to speak to him alone. And I always turned away when he'd look in my direction. But I'd feel his eyes on me as if he knew I was watching him, and curiously watched me back. Peter, the face of every fantasy I've had stood before me, listening to what I had to say, judgment clear from his face.

I didn't feel nervous. I was more shocked that he was the one I'd spilled all of these feelings and thoughts to. Why did he choose now to approach me, when he'd spent most of our childhood avoiding me, sure of my petty crush on him. He smiled, noticing my surprise. I didn't want to question it now, though. Not when I'd finally gotten a moment alone with him. I would think about it later.

He spoke, breaking the gaze first, and turning his eyes back to the garden. "I completely understand. The duty of a boy growing into a man is similar in expectation. And loss of freedom, as you speak of, I completely know."

I realized I was still gawking at him, and I looked down at my hands because I couldn't think of anywhere else to look.

"You're not alone in feeling these things. Society wants certain things from us that I too, am reluctant to give."

"I don't understand it. What is the use of it, if you are only born to carry out the family name, matched with a wealthy partner to have a family with, and that is all…?"

"There's no point to it, not really. When you live for duty and not for what you love," he said agreeing. "But I suppose there's nothing we could do about it, except silently appose it."

"Why not fully appose it?"

"What could we change by doing that?"

I sighed. "I don't know."

"It is hard. At least not really anymore now that I've found another confidant who thinks the same," he laughed.

"It's an inexplicable relief to hear another say that," I laughed, feeling the burdens of the seclusion of these feelings lift, and my mood suddenly change.

He laughed to. "You are the most refreshing company I've had the pleasure of being in, in a long time."

I blushed. Peter took my hand and brought it to his lips and took his time letting it go again, and I found that our eyes had locked once more. In a half bow, Peter held out his arm for me. "So how about this dance, Miss Darling."

I took it and laughed, melting under his touch. "It would be my pleasure."

**PETER**

I watched as she slipped away behind the curtain, through the opening of the door that lead out onto the terrace.

The ball was enjoyable, one couldn't deny that. I followed mother and father up the steps into the entry way where we were greeted by the Darlings. Wendy was with them, and I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her green gown flowing to the floor, her waist hugged flatteringly by a ribbon tied around the back, her delicate frame accentuated by the shape of the dress, and every curve made palpable. Those wide blue eyes scanned the crowd, but thankfully didn't find me. I slipped past her and into the noise of the party. I danced with many girls, smiling and dancing, letting the music move through me. It was a whirl of dresses, haughty laughter and loud, cheery talk; violins ringing out music that struck everyone into excitement. It was loud and ideal, amusing, and pleasurable. But at the same time, I felt quietness, not a calm or a peacefulness, but an underlying tone beneath everyone's façade of joyfulness, under every convincing smile. It was the emptiness of it all. The falsity that I couldn't ignore. And I was fully aware that everyone in this room is a part of their own story, and most were sufferers of something that wouldn't let them go. And I knew that things like this ball were only arrangements made by those who needed an escape.

That is truly what the world revolves around.

And now as I stand alone in the crowd, ignoring every acknowledgement or attempt at conversation from people he knew. Of whom I wasn't in the mood to look at. And most of the night, I kept my eyes on her, though she never saw me.

And as she went quietly away, unnoticed by anyone else, I couldn't stop my feet from following her.

The air was cool outside, even though it was summer, and during the day too sweltering to bear.

I couldn't see her at first, my eyes adjusting to the dark. I went to the edge on one of the sides, and glanced around. There she was, in the corner on the far side of the balcony in the shadows, and facing opposite me watching the sky. I found it interesting that she seemed to appreciate nature, and everything around her. It was refreshing to find someone who seemed to share that same aspect of it.

I startled her when I came up from behind. She jumped, and spun around, frightened, her eyes giving her away.

I laughed. She seemed angry that I interrupted her being alone. But we got to talking, and it felt like to strangers making a connection. All the resentment I felt at feeling an attraction to her ebbed away. She was different. I was wrong to assume she was the same as any girl. We've known each other our whole lives. I don't know why we hadn't spoken before.

I liked her. There was a strong society to her. A want of freedom. Of something more than this world could give her. Everything I felt.

And she was the best dance I've ever had.

**Reviews? I will love you forever! **

**-Holly**


End file.
